The Untold Case of the Stolen Stradivarius
by Msynergy
Summary: Or, rather, when Watson finally has enough and gets the better of his dear friend and fellow lodger in a most clever way.


_The Untold Case of the Stolen Stradivarius_

**Disclaimer:** Not sure if I need this, but as a force of habit no, I don't own them.

**Author's Note:** The result of another plot bunny attack that I'm sure someone out there has already explored; this is just my go at it. Enjoy!

"I am done with these childish games, Watson! Where have you put it?!"

The last of these statements was finished with an infuriated stomp of his foot on the hardwood, his fists clenched at his sides and face pinched tight with barely-concealed anger.

Childish indeed.

I sighed for what was tenth time in the last half hour; I'd been keeping count, before again trying to patiently defend to Holmes my innocence in the matter that he was so sure of my guilt.

"I did nothing with or to your violin, though I should probably thank whoever has, as they've given me my first moments of peace in these rooms in days!"

"And I say again I do not believe you! Hand it over this instant!"

The current case that my friend had been put on the scent of was no small one, but as he'd explained to me at the beginning he was not of any real need of my assistance, which was why I'd instead spent the last few days working at my own practice.

So though my patients and their health had not taken dramatic turns for the worst simultaneously, several walk-ins and appointments that I'd had to reschedule thanks to my association with Holmes had kept me thoroughly busy.

Needless to say I'd had little tolerance towards coming home exhausted to hear what sounded like the equivalent of a long nails scraping against a chalkboard every night. Which was why, of course, Holmes automatically suspected me of absconding with one of his most prized possessions, as I'd made no attempt to conceal my dislike for his less than melodious compositions.

It was the fifth night so far that he'd decided to subject me to one of these works, only on this night when he'd gone for the instrument's case he'd found it decidedly empty. Upon this discovery Holmes had systematically destroyed our rooms in search for it before finally turning to me for its whereabouts. Even my room did not escape his pillaging. However by the time I'd acquiesced to the search in hopes that he would cease his destructive hunt altogether I instead found myself implicated.

"I keep and will keep telling you Holmes, I do no have it! Can you not use your tobacco or some other meditative measure to help in your solving of this latest case? I always find that if I'm looking for something for too long and I take a break in looking for it then start again I actually end up finding it faster."

I'm sure that if he truly believed that if he glared at me long enough with that much fire in his eyes that I'd be set ablaze he would have, if only to find out the location of his precious Stradivarius.

It was just as well that over the last few years of our sharing the cost of rooms together I'd developed a certain resistance to such dark looks from Holmes. We had had, of course, more than our share of disagreements in the past that as a gentleman I rarely saw fit to put into my accounts of his cases, unless of course the discourse had some impact on the case in question.

"Oh do sod off Watson," he finally snapped back, by now in a mood befitting a three-year-old child throwing a temper tantrum rather than the world's foremost consulting detective, pillar of deduction and reason.

Only cementing this mental picture in my mind by stomping of from where he'd stood menacingly in front of me to angrily slam the door to his bedroom behind him not moments later, I couldn't help but let a small chuckle escape me at his antics.

It was rare that anyone got the better of Sherlock Holmes, let alone myself, despite my years of acquaintance with him.

As if on cue there was a soft knock at the door of our sitting room, and I quickly moved to answer before Holmes' keen ears managed to pick up the sound.

The smile I'd been fighting finally spilled out onto my face as the opening of the door revealed Mrs. Hudson, and her own grinning visage.

"He was in a quite a fit, wasn't he, Doctor?" She continued to grin slyly.

"Indeed," I agreed, "You still have it well-hidden, I take it?"

"Quite," She nodded, "I daresay even if he knew were it was he wouldn't dare go to retrieve it."

My smile broke into quiet laughter at the thought. Of course, I'd been sure to hide the violin away with the one person whose rooms I knew Holmes didn't dare to try and search, much less retrieve his violin from without explicit permission. For once his aversion towards women had come in very handy.

Mrs. Hudson sniffled her own giggles along with mine before continuing.

"How long should I keep it then, Doctor?"

"Just for tonight, I think. I daresay I won't live to see another sunrise if he does not discover it by tomorrow night, so sure is he that I possess it."

"I understand. At least you were able to have some peace tonight despite his accusations, I hope?"

I nodded, still smiling.

"I doubt his case will suffer from what I've heard of the situation, despite his haranguing. Besides, it's not everyday that I manage to pull one over on Mr. Holmes especially. We will most definitely have to work together again in the future, Mrs. Hudson."

"My sentiments exactly, Doctor."

Of course it did not take Holmes long after his instrument had been returned to him to figure out our scheme, but his face upon finding the violin back in its case will be an image I will always carry with me and smile at. Needless to say it made him all the more suspicious of Mrs. Hudson and her motives, and he did not talk to me for the rest of the morning and none of the following night after I'd returned from my practice.

All was forgiven I perceived, however, by the fact that all that night, though he spoke not a word to me, never once did I even see the flash of polished wood and bow, or even the threat of the howling, crashing melody to come. Instead, Holmes only smoked enough of his pipe tobacco to age both of us considerably beyond our years.

But, I decided with a smile, it was more than worth it, if the half-smile on Holmes' own face was anything to go by.

**Author's Note:** Hope it was worth a good laugh at least! Please do review!


End file.
